Sundered by Fate (Shadowbound #3)

Chapter 5

Five

A cold fog drifted through Thornhaven's streets as Aric and Davin set out for the surrounding forest, the chill clinging to their skin. The town's earlier energy was muted now, replaced by a tense anticipation that mirrored the weight pressing on Aric's chest. His conversation with Olaya had only deepened his sense of unease; there was something sinister lurking beneath the surface of recent events, and Aric couldn't help but wonder if it was all connected.

Their boots crunched over frosted leaves as they moved into the forest, the only sounds their breathing and the faint hum of Davin's magical devices. But even those fell silent as they crossed an invisible threshold into the deeper woods. The air here was thick with a sense of magic, almost like a physical presence that pressed down on them from all sides.

Aric's senses felt raw, exposed. It was an all-too-familiar sensation from his time in the Ebon Spire—a constant awareness of something watching, waiting. But this wasn't like the ominous presence of the demon realm. This was . . . different. Unsettling in its own way, but somehow more subtle.

Davin moved with purpose through the underbrush, his expression focused as he took readings from his devices. Every so often he would pause, consulting with the luminescent glyphs etched into his wrist or murmuring to himself in a language Aric didn't recognize.

But there was nothing definitive—no obvious threat to confront or anomaly to decipher. Just an unsettling tension in the air that made Aric's skin crawl.

As they reached a clearing, Davin stopped abruptly, his head tilting to one side as if listening to some unseen voice. Aric watched him closely; he'd seen mages go into trances before when communing with spirits or tapping into powerful sources of magic.

"It's stronger here," Davin said at last, though it seemed more directed at whatever entity he was speaking with than at Aric. "The resonance is almost overwhelming."

Aric moved to join him, feeling the hum of power that thrummed in the air. It resonated within him like a familiar melody—but one slightly off-key, dissonant notes threading through.

As they combed the area for clues, Aric found himself falling back into an easy rhythm with Davin, reminiscent of their days training at the Silver Tower. It was strange, the way their movements seemed to echo one another without conscious thought; the way they anticipated each other's needs with practiced ease. Even their silences felt companionable, rather than strained.

Davin's laugh startled him. "Remember that time in the ley line chambers?"

Aric groaned, but he couldn't stifle a grin. "Oh gods, don't remind me. I still have nightmares about that."

"You set the ley lines on fire," Davin said, shaking his head. "I didn't even know that was possible."

Aric shrugged, fighting back laughter. "I was trying to push my limits."

"You did that, all right. I'm pretty sure the entire tower was ready to murder you."

"I got a lot of practice at repair spells after that."

Davin gave him a playful shove. "It was an impressive spectacle, if nothing else."

Aric laughed, the sound echoing through the trees. It felt good to laugh like this again, even in the midst of such darkness. It reminded him of simpler times—of late nights in the library with Davin, poring over dusty tomes and ancient scrolls; of quiet conversations as they sat by the garden fountains, watching fireflies dance in the night air.

Their friendship had always held an undercurrent of something more—a tension that sparked between them at odd moments, a longing that Aric felt in his bones. But circumstances and duty had always conspired to keep them apart; first Davin's duties at the Tower, then Aric's departure on his journey.

But now . . .

Davin caught Aric's eye and held it, his smile softening into something warmer, more inviting. For a heartbeat, they were two young mages again, caught up in dreams of what might be.

The warmth in Davin's face was enough to chase back the shadows, fleetingly, to soothe the ache of longing that had settled in Aric's chest. And that, in turn, set a guilty rhythm humming in his blood. Discordant. Dissonant. Yet somehow deliciously so.

But before he could fully savor it, the forest around them shifted.

A shimmer in the air, like heat haze rising from the ground. The trees began to warp, their trunks bending and twisting as if struggling to contain something immense. The very earth seemed to pulse beneath their feet.

"Do you feel that?" Davin asked, his voice tight.

Aric nodded, his own senses singing with it. A resonance that hummed through his bones, echoing back from somewhere deep within him.

From the sigil.

The glyph burned hot—hotter than it had since he'd left Drindal. It was a warning and a promise, the imprint of his bond with Malekith.

"I need to see what it is." Aric's voice was rougher than he'd intended, but he couldn't take it back now. The urge to reach out and touch this magic was too strong; he could no more deny it than he could deny breathing.

Before Davin could protest or offer any of his own readings or words of caution, Aric lifted his hand toward the center of the clearing. The air itself seemed to ripple around them as his own magic reached out in response to the tugging, casting golden light through the shadows like dawn breaking over a haunted land.

The anomaly surged in response.

With a deafening roar, the fabric of reality ripped open before them—spatial warping or disruption from whatever temporal instability fueled this place. Tendrils of raw energy lashed out wildly as it erupted into view, smashing into tree trunks and ripping open saplings as they grew up from the earth and disintegrated all within moments. One tendril came far too close for comfort?—

Davin tackled Aric just in time to pull him clear, rolling them both into cover as another wave of distortion crashed over the clearing. Heat seared past their skin, singeing leaves and evaporating dew from morning's cold breath.

When they came to rest in the underbrush, neither man moved for several heartbeats—just lay panting together amid smoking foliage and singed earth while crimson light danced across the canopy above.

"Gods," Davin breathed after long seconds had passed. "That almost had us."

Aric didn't reply right away; just stared up at that churning sky beyond them—the storm they'd almost called down on themselves by touching what shouldn't be touched. Something deep within him felt called toward it still . . .

But instead of meeting whatever it sought there—the source of its strange resonance—he met Davin's worried stare instead; those gold-flecked eyes searching his face intently even as they remained wrapped tightly together amid crackling arcs above their heads.

"It—it's all right." The words came with difficulty—a truth dragged reluctantly into daylight—but once spoken seemed to echo down an endless corridor inside him somewhere, filling empty places long left hollowed out and aching dryly away from home. "I'll be fine."

He didn't know if that last part was true anymore than what lay ahead. Not really. Not when thoughts gnawed ceaselessly inside: secrets half-glimpsed, images that could be memories or nightmares or warnings. Even the Malekith of his dreams last night didn't seem to know which; didn't seem, clearly, to be real or imagined, or something else entirely.

Gods, what was wrong with Aric? What did he care what became of some hateful demon prince far away? He shouldn't. He couldn't. He couldn't pin humanity's hopes on a chance that their half-confessed dreams might be real, that there could be any kind of future for them.

But telling himself so did nothing to stop the acute yearning for it he felt all the same.

With Davin's readings and notes in hand, Aric followed him back through the woods to Thornhaven. The chill fog hadn't lifted, casting a gray pall over the town's thatched roofs and cobblestone streets. Even in daylight, Thornhaven felt insular, its high walls more of a mental barrier than a physical one.

The townspeople gave them wary looks as they passed—guards clutching their spears tighter, merchants glancing up from their stalls, mothers ushering children away. Aric tried to ignore the burn of shame in his cheeks. He knew they still feared him; he could almost taste their suspicion on the air. But he didn't want to think about what might happen if Cyrus returned—or worse, if the Silver Tower's patience ran out.

"Aric," Davin said softly, resting a hand on his shoulder. "You did what you had to out there. You saved us all."

Aric wanted to believe him. But the shivers coursing through his veins told a different story.

The town hall loomed ahead, its double doors thrown open in welcome. As they approached, Aric spotted Olaya and Ruta waiting with Townmaster Virida and a few other guards, including Bastian, who looked none too contrite at having summoned the Pureblades. Still, as Aric met Olaya's eyes, he caught the faintest hint of a smile before her expression settled into its usual mask of authority.

Aric's palms were sweating as they entered the town hall, the oppressive sense of tension thickening the air inside. Olaya led them to a long table where the town leaders had gathered—Virida, arms crossed and frowning; Bastian, watchful and wary; a few other council members who looked at Aric with a mixture of skepticism and curiosity.

And Cyrus, lurking in the shadows, his presence a dark cloud over the proceedings.

Aric tried to look anywhere else as he and Davin took their seats, but his disdain was palpable. Aric set his jaw, determined not to let it show how much it affected him. He had a job to do here, and he couldn't afford any distractions.

"Let's begin," Olaya said, her voice firm but reassuring. "Davin, would you share your findings with us?"

Davin nodded, pulling a small brass device from his satchel and setting it on the table. "This is a prototype from the Silver Tower," he explained. "It measures fluctuations in magical energy—particularly those associated with the anomaly we've been monitoring."

Aric watched the device curiously; it was a delicate thing, all gears and glass tubes filled with swirling liquid. As Davin adjusted some of the dials, the liquid shifted color from blue to purple to red.

"As you can see," Davin continued, "there's a significant increase in magical energy levels around Thornhaven. These readings are off the charts."

There was a murmur among the council members, their expressions ranging from concern to disbelief. Virida leaned forward, her eyes narrowed.

"And you think this is related to the warped demons we've been seeing?"

Davin hesitated, glancing at Aric before answering. "It's possible. But whatever is causing this surge in magic—it's something we've never seen before. It's . . . unstable. Unpredictable."

Aric nodded, feeling a cold shiver run down his spine at Davin's words. He'd felt that instability himself—the way his magic had reacted out in the forest—and he had no doubt that it was connected to whatever was happening here.

"We need to find out what's causing this," Aric said urgently. "Before it's too late."

But even as he spoke, Cyrus's eyes bored into him from across the room.

"Isn't it obvious?" Cyrus's voice cut through the air like a blade. "This is all his doing—the demon hunter turned demon sympathizer." He spat the last word as though it left a foul taste in his mouth.

Aric clenched his teeth, fighting back a wave of anger and guilt that threatened to choke him.

"This isn't my fault," he said quietly. "But I'm determined to stop it, unlike you."

Cyrus sneered at him for what felt like an eternity before turning away again with a dismissive snort.

"We'll see about that."

As the debate heated up, Aric felt a sudden, sharp pain from his sigil. He stumbled, catching himself on the edge of the table. In that moment of vulnerability, he heard Sylthris's mocking laughter echoing in his mind.

Oh, little mage, if only they knew the true danger that walks among them,"Sylthris taunted.

Aric pushed the voice away, but not before Davin noticed his discomfort and shot him a concerned look. Aric straightened, determined not to show weakness, but the incident had shaken him.

He needed to get out of here—needed time to think without Sylthris's taunts or Cyrus's accusations ringing in his ears. The woods called to him, their dark embrace a refuge from the chaos of the town and its suspicions.

"Aric." Davin's hand touched his arm lightly, and Aric stilled. "Are you all right? You . . . looked like you were in pain."

"It's nothing," Aric said, forcing a smile. "Just a headache."

Davin's mouth pressed together, as if to stop himself from saying more, and he simply nodded, but Aric knew he was unconvinced.

As the town leaders continued to debate the anomaly's effects, the doors to the town hall burst open, and a young mage Aric didn't recognize rushed in. His robes were a deep indigo, marked with the Silver Tower's insignia, and his eyes were wide, his pale cheeks flushed.

"Forgive me for interrupting," he said, breathing heavily. "But we've got a serious problem."

Olaya frowned. "Lysander, what is it?"

Lysander hesitated, and looked at Aric before speaking. "It's about the anomaly. It's affecting our magic—mine and several others'. We're experiencing strange fluctuations, just like Aric and Davin reported."

The room fell silent as the implications sank in. Even those who had been skeptical of Aric's warning looked uneasy now.

"This changes things," Townmaster Virida said quietly. "If even Thornhaven's mages are being affected . . ."

Cyrus's expression was still dark as he glared at Aric. "Or it could be an elaborate ruse—one that he's orchestrating."

Aric tensed, fighting to keep his composure in the face of Cyrus's insinuation. The other leaders' eyes were on him now, questioning, suspicious.

"I swear to you all," Aric said evenly, "my only goal is to help Thornhaven—and our realm—survive this threat. Whatever these fluctuations are, we need to understand them quickly."

Cyrus scoffed, but his gaze was fixed on Aric with an intensity like burning embers on Aric’s skin.

"And if you are somehow at the center of this storm?"

Aric hesitated for only a moment before answering.

"If no one else believes me," he began, "then let me show you."

He reached into his satchel, withdrawing a small crystal orb that shimmered with arcane energy. It was a tool he'd used during his time in the demon realm—a way to channel and focus his magic. But here, among the skeptical stares of Thornhaven's leaders, it felt like a lifeline.

"Aric, what are you—" Davin started, but Aric held up a hand to silence him.

"I can demonstrate the reality of the threat," Aric said, his voice steely. "But it's not something I can control completely."

Cyrus sneered, folding his arms over his chest. "Oh, this should be good."

Ignoring him, Aric closed his eyes and focused inward, feeling for the thread of golden fire that burned within him. He'd always had an affinity for fire magic—it was what had earned him a place at the Silver Tower in the first place. But now it was so much more than that. Now it was a part of him—an extension of himself that responded to his every thought and emotion.

As he focused on the crystal orb in his hands, he felt the magic respond eagerly—like an old friend who'd been waiting far too long to be called upon. Slowly, its heat built within him, spreading through his veins like wildfire.

And then he let it loose.

The room around him exploded into chaos as golden flames erupted from his hands, swirling around him in a torrent. They licked at the walls and ceiling before coalescing into a single point above his head—one that glowed with an otherworldly light.

It was beautiful in its way—a perfect representation of the power and danger that lurked within him. But even as he marveled at it, something else stirred beneath the surface—something darker and more insidious than anything he'd ever encountered before.

As if sensing his thoughts, the flames began to shift—taking on new shapes and forms as they danced through the air. Shadows emerged from their depths—twisted figures that seemed to writhe and struggle against some unseen force.

Then Aric heard them—an eerie chorus of voices whispering half-heard words and phrases that chilled him to his core. They spoke of ancient prophecies and forgotten realms—of worlds beyond their own where demons roamed freely through fields of starlight and shadow.

And one voice rose above them all—a deep rumble that shook Aric to his very core.

"You cannot escape us," it said, its tone mocking yet strangely familiar. "We are coming for you—for all of you—and there is nothing you can do to stop us."

The flames flared brighter at its words—casting harsh shadows across Aric's face as he stared up at them in horror. He knew those words; he'd heard them before; they were carved deep into his memory like scars etched into stone.

But this time they felt different—more immediate somehow—as though they carried with them a weight he'd never known before; one heavy enough to crush him if he let it consume him completely.

Panic surged through him then—a desperate need to flee from whatever darkness lay coiled within those fiery depths—but even as he tried to pull back from it mentally the flames continued to rage on unchecked by anything save their own insatiable hunger for destruction . . .

There was nothing he could do now save watch helplessly as they consumed everything around him . . .

"Aric!" Davin rushed to his side, his own magic flaring as he fought to contain the inferno Aric had unleashed. A cooling mist spread through the room, dousing the flames, but the shadows within them only seemed to grow stronger.

Aric's chest heaved as he struggled to regain control. He felt the sigil on his arm sear with pain, a reminder of the bond he'd formed with Malekith—and of the consequences that came with it.

Slowly, the flames subsided, leaving only the golden orb hovering above them. Aric stared up at it in silence for a long moment before lowering his hands, allowing the magic to dissipate.

The room was silent as everyone looked at him—some with fear, others with awe. Olaya's expression was unreadable, her eyes locked on his face.

"I think we could all use a short recess," she said finally, her voice steady. "To . . . process what we've seen."

The leaders filed out in a hushed procession, casting glances at Aric that ranged from uncertain to accusatory.

"Aric." Davin's hand lingered on Aric's arm as they stood together near the exit, his eyes searching. "Are you all right?"

Aric nodded silently—though inwardly he was reeling from not only losing control over his magic but also from feeling so exposed under Davin's unwavering gaze; knowing he'd let down the few allies he had left; knowing how much more complicated this would make things between him and Davin going forward.

But none of it mattered now—not when their world teetered on a knife's edge between order and chaos. All that mattered was stopping what was coming next—even if it meant becoming something other than who—or what—he'd always been.

As the meeting reconvened, the council room was filled with tense murmurs and the scrape of chairs as everyone took their seats. Aric tried to ignore their stares as he and Davin returned to their places.

"We need to decide on a course of action," Townmaster Virida said, her voice cutting through the chatter. "The anomaly is a threat we can't ignore, but we must also consider the safety of Thornhaven and its people."

Olaya nodded in agreement. "Our primary concern is protecting our town and its residents. But if these magical fluctuations are affecting other areas, we must be prepared to defend ourselves."

Cyrus leaned back in his chair with a smirk. "Why bother? We should just hand over that traitor Aric and let him deal with it."

Aric's jaw clenched at Cyrus's words, but before he could respond, Ruta spoke up.

"I trust Aric," she said firmly. "He risked his life to save us from those demons in the forest—and he's been nothing but honest with us since. If he says this anomaly is dangerous, then we need to take him seriously."

A few of the other council members nodded in agreement, though there were still plenty of skeptical glances being cast Aric's way.

Townmaster Virida looked around the room, her expression unreadable. "Let's put it to a vote. All in favor of investigating Aric's warning and preparing our defenses?"

Hands rose hesitantly around the table, until about half were raised. But even as they voted in favor of action, Aric could sense the lingering doubt and suspicion in their eyes.

"Very well," Townmaster Virida said. "We will prepare for the worst—and hope that Aric's dire warnings prove unnecessary."

Aric let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. But even as relief washed over him at their decision, an icy pit of dread settled in his stomach.

As the meeting began to wind down, the council members discussing preliminary steps for strengthening Thornhaven's defenses, a commotion erupted outside the town hall. Shouts and cries echoed through the streets, followed by a thunderous pounding on the doors.

Virida's brow furrowed as she rose from her chair. "What is it now?"

Before anyone could answer, the doors burst open, revealing a bloodied and gasping scout. He stumbled forward, his eyes wide with terror as he scanned the room.

"Demons," he managed to choke out between ragged breaths. "A massive army . . . approaching from the east."

The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly from cautious planning to outright panic. Leaders shouted over one another as they scrambled to make sense of the new threat, their earlier skepticism giving way to fear.

Aric's heart sank as he locked eyes with Davin across the table, both of them realizing that their worst fears had been confirmed. The anomaly was not an isolated incident, but a harbinger of something far more sinister.

Chaos erupted in the town hall as leaders shouted orders and civilians outside began to scream. Aric steeled himself for the coming storm, knowing that this was only the beginning—and that whatever dark forces lurked beyond Thornhaven's walls would stop at nothing to claim him once more.